


Jingle Balls (anal) Ring, Jingle Balls Cock

by meh_guh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Rimming, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe bends Sam over a Rudolph sculpture at Santa's Village and rims him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jingle Balls (anal) Ring, Jingle Balls Cock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/gifts).



> Because I am the classiest of ladies. From a Christmas-time request from thette (chronically incapable of hitting deadlines, I am)

'This is some bullshit, Sammy,' Dean hissed from behind Prancer. 'There's no way something's haunting Santa's goddamn Village!'

'Tell that to the mom who tore her clothes off and started screaming, Dean,' Sam replied, crouching to shine his flashlight under a toppled giant candy cane. 'Or the elf who used the tripod to beat up invisible ducks. There's _something_ going on here.'

Dean just grunted and crept around the massive pile of fake snow to investigate the other half of the display. Sam rolled his eyes and scanned a full 360, then jerked around to check the ceiling; once getting slammed from above by a pissy harpy was _enough_ , thank you.

Sam slid his back foot along the floor and eased towards the wall, doing a quick check around to make sure nothing had appeared, then he brushed against something and there was a godawful racket as about a hundred baubles crashed to the floor. He hunched his shoulders up as the crashing, breaking glass sounds tapered off.

'Sammy?' Dean called at normal volume from the far side of the Santa throne. 'You OK?'

Sam stared down at the wreckage and sighed. 'Yeah, Dean. I just broke some baubles.'

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Sam knew he was in for a level nine older brother ribbing. Dean had never gotten out of middle school in a lot of ways, and there was no way he was going to resist making off-colour comments about Sam breaking baubles. The only thing to do was to let him work the cackling out of his system, and maybe put depilatory cream in Dean's shampoo if he kept it up too long. Possibly empty a bottle of gitter into Dean's aftershave; the sticky stuff Jess had used that had stuck around for _weeks_...

Sam frowned; Dean should've at least laughed by now. Damn, there really _was_ something here. Sam checked his shotgun, shook his shoulders loose again and stalked around to where he'd last heard Dean.

There was no Dean, but also no blood or obvious signs of struggle. Sam made a quick circuit, but there was no sign of anything. Apart from Dean vanishing and the sea of glass shards over by the candy cane there was nothing out of the ordinary.

There wasn't even the usual feel of menace.

Sam listened for a moment, frowning even harder. In _fact_ , there was a definite air of amusement hanging around the cheap plastic village. A familiar silent chuckle that ran through the air.

Sam let his shotgun droop towards the floor and he sighed. 'Trickster! You better not've hurt Dean!!'

The Trickster appeared between one blink and the next, dressed in one of the elf costumes. Candy-striped tights and bells on his shoes, he'd even made his ears elongate to sharp points. His lips were wrapped around a candy cane, but his eyes were smirking.

'What do you think you're doing here?' Sam made sure to keep the barrel down, though he couldn't stop himself taking the four steps over to loom. 'What the hell have kids and their moms done to you?'

The Trickster raised an eyebrow at him and folded his arms. 'You never seen the shit the suburbans get up to behind their white pickett fences? Oh, Sammy-boy I could tell you _stories_...'

Sam scowled even harder, and the Trickster grinned.

'Tell you what,' he leaned into Sam and took a deep breath through his nose, eyes fluttering cartoonishly like he thought Sam was gullible enough to chuck a fit over such an amateurish fake-out. 'You let me lick you and I'll give you your pretty, pouty, alcoholic brother back.'

Sam blinked, but didn't let himself jerk back. ' _Lick_ me?'

The Trickster just smirked harder around his candy cane. Well, Sam thought, that sounded like a freaky-but-ultimately-harmless condition-

'You're not venemous, are you?' Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. That seemed like something that would be _right_ up the jerk's alley: secreting some hallucinogen that could be absrbed through the skin and then dumping a high Sam on an already-pissy Dean. Wherever the Trickster had magicked Dean to, it was bound to be somewhere that infuriated him.

The Trickster's eyes lit up. 'You want me to solemly swear I won't spike my _tongue_? Sammy, you're _learning_. C'mon sugarlumps, I just wanna know what all that heroism tastes like. Consider it a Christmas gift; there's bound to be some mistletoe around you can blame it on.'

Sam let his aim drop, automatically checking the safety as his hand dropped to his side. 'I let you lick me once and you give Dean back? _And_ stop freaking out the soccer moms?'

The Trickster dragged a fingertip across his chest in an X. 'Cross my heart. But for concession _that_ big, I get to choose _where_ I lick you.'

Something in the Trickser's smile made Sam pause, but he was over a bit of a barrell here. And what the hell, getting licked was bound to be gross, but nothing compared to the ichor he'd been scrubbing out of his faourite jacket for the past week.

'Fine,' Sam shoved the gun through his waistband and folded his arms. 'Lick me.'

'Oh,' the Trickster waved a hand and Sam was suddenly face-to-butt with a stuffed reindeer. 'A little lead-up, I think. Pants off and bend over Rudolph here.'

' _What?_ ' Sam twitched. 'I'm not-'

The Trickster clicked his tongue and shook his head, all mock-disapointment. 'Going back on your word, Sammy? All I want for Christmas is my tongue up your ass.'

The blush started at about knee-level, and the Trickster didn't look away. 'I'm not-'

'Don't tell me you've never been _rimmed_ ,' the Trickster dragged his gaze up and down Sam's body, and Sam felt an unexpected thrill of heat settle in his stomach. 'Oh, Sammy-boy. That is a crying shame.'

Sam concentrated on his breathing; in through the nose and out throuh the mouth. The Trickster kept _staring_ , a covetous glint in his eye and Sam was horrified to feel his pants start to tighten when the Trickster licked his lips.

'Why would you want to...' Sam started, his own mouth drying a little. It was, he told himself firmly, purely because of the dry spell he'd been going through. His hormones were clearly out of whack if they considered the _Trickster_ a viable option.

'I'm a whimsical guy,' the Trickster shrugged. 'Take it or leave it: either I rim you and you get to declare victory over Santa's Village or you keep you panties wadded tight and Deano finds himsef somewhere entertaining. In the cockpit of Airforce One, maybe. Or he'd make an _adorable_ angel at the top of the Time Square tree, don'tcha think? Maybe I'll send him to Rio during Mardis Gras. The possibilities are _endless_.'

'Don't you _dare_ -' Sam took a step forward, but the world spun and his hips thunked up against the stuffed reindeer. '...ow.'

The Trickster apeared on the other side of the taxidermy. 'Oh, Sammy. I just want to make you feel _good_.'

Sam glared, but he was over a barrel. Or at least a solidly-built kids' hero. 'No penetration.'

The Trickster pouted, but Sam just glared as hard as he could. 'I mean it. Deal is for licking _only_.'

The Trickster slid down and cralwed under Rudolph's belly, crawled between Sam's legs and hauled himself upright by Sam's belt,

'Cross my heart, hope to do something _really_ boring,' he laughed into Sam's ear as his hands slid around to undo Sam's belt. '...unless you ask for it.'

Sam grit his teeth and snapped his hips backwards in the hopes of ruining the Trickster's mood. All he succeeded in doing, though, was feeling the hard length of an erection against his arse and allowing the Trickster to slide his fly and his jeans down without interference.

' _Good_ boy,' the Trickster laughed, and Sam felt a scrape of teeth against the back of his neck before the Trickster slipped down Sam's back and settled on his knees. 'Underwear even. Your pretty brother doesn't seem the type; do you wear it to rebel?'

Before Sam could retort, the Trickster hooked his fingers into Sam's boxers and yanked them down. Sam tensed, but the Trickster just caressed Sam's thighs with warm fingers.

'This isn't to torture you, you know,' the Trickster's thumbs crept up to the crease of Sam's arse and hovered there making small circles. 'It's a little selfish, I'll grant you, but I _do_ wanna make you feel good.'

'Get _on_ with it!' Sam snarled, deliberately widening his stance and bracing his forehead against Rudolph.

He felt hot breath against his balls, then the Trickster's thumbs spread Sam's cheeks and he felt the first wet brush against his hole.

It was odd; not unpleasant if Sam ignored who it was and why this was happening. A second swipe sent a thrill up Sam's spine, and hell. It'd been longer than Sam cared to remember since anyone had touched him like this. So the Trickster wanted to rim him? Whatever the guy's ulterior motive was, Sam was going to get his money's worth out of the encounter.

'That all you got?' he said, cock hard and heavy already. 'Thought you were going to blow my mind from how you were bragging.'

The Trickster chuckled, sending very interesting vibrations all along Sam's crotch. Sam felt the Trickster bite his left cheek, one hand slipping between Sam's legs to fondle his balls. 'Thought you wanted me to go slow, Sammy-boy? You got some fun facts about your college experimentation phase you wanna share? Am I just retreading old ground?'

The Trickster sounded so convincingly upset Sam very nearly went to reassure him. 'Get on with it.'

The Trickster slid his hand from Sam's balls along his dick and licked a sloppy line from the skin behind Sam's balls all the way to his tailbone. 'Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I'm gonna take my time. Show you what I can do for you.'

' _To_ me,' Sam grit out, but he was already pressing back, seeking more contact.

'Su-ure,' the Trickster blew against Sam's wet skin, and Sam's hips snapped forward. 'To you. Now be a good boy and shut up if you're not gonna moan my name'

'I don't even _know_ your-' Sam started, but then there were teeth gently scraping over his hole, and a hot tongue pressing insistently in. 'Jesus fucking _Christ!_ '

'Bzzt!' the Trickster said, and wow. That felt a- _mazing_. 'Good guess, but nope.'

Sam snarled into Rudolph's spine and pressed insistently back. The Trickster chuckled and flicked his tongue against Sam's rim way faster than should've been possible. The hand around Sam's dick sped up counterpoint, and it wasn't more than thirty seconds before Sam bucked and painted the reindeer in messy stripes.

It took Sam a while to come down, the Trickster's tongue still flicking little strokes against him. His knees were a little unsteady, so Sam just leaned against Rudolph until his heartbeat had slowed to something close to normal.

'Merry Christmas, Sammy,' the Trickster stroked a gentle hand over Sam's abs as he stood up. 'Any time you want a repeat performance, you just gotta ask.'

'A repeat-?' Sam yelped, turning to glare, but the Trickster had vanished and he'd forgotten how his jeans were around his knees. Sam went down hard, knocking himself silly on the damn reindeer. He lay there groaning for a while, running through a mental list of things he was going to do the next time they ran into the bastard-

'Sammy?' Dean came around Rudolph's rear end and froze. 'Uh...'

Sam sighed and thunked his head against the floor a few times. 'God damn Trickster.'

The choked sound Dean made was almost enough to make Sam smile. He was still going to do something creative the next time the damn Trickster turned up, though.


End file.
